Fright Night (2011) Prequel: Jerry Meets Lady Mary
by GaGa4FrightNight
Summary: A little further back, before our beer drinking Jerry hit the States, he resided in England where he took on the upkeep of a grand old English Brightley Estate. Jerry stumbles upon that estate's dark past and comes face to face with more than just a ghost of the former lady of the manor, Lady Mary Gabriella Dryden-Brightley, first born. What's this stud gonna do this time, hmm?


Fright Night 2011 Prequel

Jerry (Hey Guy) Dandrige

Versus

Lady Mary

Chapter One

Merry Old England

By

~GaGa4FrightNight~

_(Author)_

_So, are we enjoying the little trips into Jerry 'Hey Guy' Dandridge's past? Hmm? He's met the strangest of creatures hasn't he? _

_Well, over ten years ago I created this lovely and tragic vampire character that unfortunately never had a chance for anyone to read because the book I did finish is cursed. When I finished it, the computer it was on crashed and it was lost. Again, I tried to rewrite it and again that computer was ruined by a strike of lightning. Then, again, I tried to write it and damn it all, again that third computer went bust and again it was lost. Well, I want to attempt something different; this will be prequel and a crossover of sorts; crossing over into one of my most treasured vampires I have ever created. Now, at first I wasn't sure which Jerry to use and you know, I just went along and chose the jaws version of Jerry, as Ed Lee described him. How this Jerry will handle such a vampire; I don't know. And how will he handle this little tidbit; he's gonna have the same face as this tragic female vampire's long lost love. Yeah, she's gonna be like the original Jerry in ways! Ha-Ha on douche bag Jerry! _

_I'm gonna give you a type of layout here to dip your tootsies in this pool of blood. Not sure what year this will be but it's gonna be significantly earlier than the others. Jerry's gonna be implanted in England; perhaps before he trekked his ass over the Atlantic to test the blood supply in the United States. Since he's this obsessive handyman who has a respect for well constructed dwellings; the long abandoned Brightley Manor in the English countryside will be his night job and the setting for this piece. This probably will be longer than most of the prequels because I'm determined to make this special since I'm introducing you to one of my all time favorite original characters. I just hope this computer doesn't go bye-bye because I'm attempting to bring this cursed tale into another. Who knows… if this succeeds into a finished project then perhaps I can risk bringing the entire tale back to life! Pray and keep your fingers and toes crossed. _

We are spinning a little further back into Jerry Dandrige's past. We've taken a trip with him to Villa Rica Georgia then Mass City Michigan and now we take an overseas voyage across the Atlantic to the island of Great Britain. Being the age he was; certainly he traveled through Europe at some point; why not the mother country England? Surely he enjoyed tasty meals fed with tea and crumpets; enjoyed some good old fashion English cuisine! Probably had an immediate fan base of British ladies from all ranks of society politely and discretely passing their panties to him behind their spouses' or boyfriends' backs. Possibly he enjoyed some traditional British ale while watching a bit of football (soccer) on the pub's telly. This vampire most likely had a chip-cheerio good time amongst the Brits while sucking his way through mighty ole London. And where he landed those rugged boots was dab in the middle of a centuries old family secret hidden away in the English countryside at a grand estate left abandoned for several decades; Brightley Estate.

How did our Jerry Dandrige land this job? One evening of drinking it up with the locals at a famous pub around the infamous White Chapel district Jerry was introduced to an older English gentleman named Sir Lawrence Brightley. It became known that Sir Lawrence was having a difficult time finding anyone who would really take on the mighty task of cleaning up his old ancestral estate because of the centuries old legendary scandal that has cursed the Brightley family since back in the time of Queen Mary. Jerry sat drinking British ale one after another; not really getting drunk because, well, he was a vampire, duh. He watched the old man get drunker and drunker with each pint and with each pint the story grew and grew but the only thing Jerry believed was he was about to land the perfect job in the perfect location to start up one of those incubation pits. He also learned from a few locals that the reason no one really wanted the job was because the old man didn't want to pay what it was really worth taking on such a task. Well, for Jerry, he didn't need much; beer, apples, and a roof over his head. Whatever the man offered, he took it in a heartbeat.

And, so, that's how he landed his job taking on the task of clearing the old estate of overgrowth, fixing whatever needed serious fixing and living in the grand old estate all by his lonesome. Thankfully there was a nearby village where he could begin picking and choosing possible minions while feeding his need for that thrill of mortal blood. He had it made!

Jerry had spent too many days confined in a small two room apartment which gave him no damned room for a potential dirt pit. So, when old man Sir Lawrence Brightley gave him that offer he couldn't refuse. He packed up and left that shitty little so called apartment; got his most important belongings from storage including his traditional sarcophagus. He was armed with instructions how to get to that refreshing countryside village and drove the small moving truck towards the northern lands of England. It took a nearly a couple hours to find that remote little village inhabited by a maybe a thousand Brits.

He rolled into the village which was pretty quiet with exception to the bustling little pub oddly titled Our Lady Mary. There was plenty time to get friendly with the locals and so he continued on with the instructions that would lead him to his new temporary residence and place of employment. Moving along the narrow road he caught a pleasant sight, two backpackers who were a little staggered with their footing; probably just shared some good ale at Our Lady Mary. Perhaps they were up for a little adventure and a possibly place to stay for the night. His lips smirked as he neared the truck to the male and female backpackers.

He stopped the truck a few feet in front of them and rolled down the window; drivers side on the right. In the rearview mirror he watched the couple move toward the truck. There was no time like the present to begin the ritualistic task of incubating an army of dark vampire minions who would arise the moment he was informed the takeover would begin. The couple approached; he flashed his charming smile and offered, "Hey, need a ride?" he asked with that pleasant chummy tone.

"Well, shit, American," the obvious American young man stated loudly with a slight intoxicated slur.

"Um, yeah," Jerry commented, "So, the two of you need a place to stay for the night? I'm heading up the road a ways to some local estate I'll be taking care of; interested?" He focused and watched the guy look to his obvious girlfriend, "What do ya say, guy?" he asked, "Don't mind the company; my first night out here."

The guy looked to him with a smile, "Sure, why not; better than sleeping on the side of the road."

"Well, get in." Jerry gestured to the passenger door to his left then watched the eager backpackers rush around the front of the truck then climb inside, the girl in the middle. "So, you two have names?" He shifted the truck into gear and with a slight jerk it moved forward.

"I'm Chris and this is my girlfriend Trudy." Chris the backpacker introduced and reached passed Trudy and shook hands with the kind stranger.

"Chris," Jerry nodded in greeting, "Trudy," he nodded to the girl smiling at him, "The name's Jerry."

"Great to meet you, Jerry, and thanks again." Chris chimed while putting his arm around Trudy.

"Not a problem." Jerry held his smirk keeping his eyes forward on the headlight lit road.

The truck rolled down the overgrown drive; large full trees canopied the drive as the headlights beamed over the narrowness of the drive. "Sure is long," Jerry listened to the young lady beside him comment; he frowned, already forgotten her name. The headlights beamed onto a towering iron gate blocking further access down the trail like drive. Jerry looked passed what's her name at the guy he believed was named Chris. "Hey guy, wanna give me hand with the gate?" he asked, "There's a flashlight under the seat there." He opened the truck door while hearing Chris agree to help. He moved towards the towering gate; Chris moved up beside him shining the flashlight up the height of the gate and stopping on a rusted letter 'D' formed out of twisted iron. "Well, shall we," he chimed then stepped before gate; he wouldn't have had an issue doing it on his own but wanted the guy to feel useful though he would soon be useful in another way.

Together they pushed the squeaking rusted gates forward, parting in the middle and opening wide pushing back the overgrowth. They returned to the truck and forward the truck rolled moving the rest of the way along the lengthy drive.

"This is sorta creepy." Trudy huddled next to Chris, "You know what!" she said with excitement, "Chris, I bet this is the old estate we heard about at Our Lady Mary!"

"The Brightley Estate?" Jerry entered the little conversation; sort of interested in what the locals possibly said about the estate.

"Well, they said Dryden." Trudy stated, "But this place is abandoned ain't it?"

Jerry gave a nod, "Yep and I'm here to make it not so abandoned, you could say."

"Well, I think it might be the same place." Trudy nodded agreeing with her assumption.

Chris spoke up excitedly, "It's gotta be. That was a 'D' on those gates, wasn't it, Jerry?"

Jerry nodded, "Sure was." He wasn't sharing the same excitement as they were but it was better than sitting alone in the cab of the truck. "So, what's the story they gave you about this place?" he asked; always one for a good ghost story.

"Okay," Trudy adjusted slightly aiming herself at their kind host, "The pub we were at in town, it's named after Lady Mary who they said inherited the estate like back in the fourteen hundreds or something. She was married to," her eyes grew wide, "That's right her husband was Lord Gregory Brightley." She was beyond excited now that two and two were put together, "Okay, so she was married to that guy and so he obviously inherited the estate. But there's a lot more to the story, well, I think. How long has it been empty?"

What was he, the authority on English legends? "Seventy years I think." He replied seeing an end to the drive coming; the sooner the better. He enjoyed some good old campfire stories but this chick was rambling on and on and making not a lick of sense.

"Oh, Chris, I can't believe we're staying here!" Trudy chimed loudly, "I can't wait to see the house."

"Manor," Jerry quickly corrected; he was quite respectful of classic architecture and England had plenty beautifully constructed buildings.

"Oh, yeah," Trudy felt awkward by the way Jerry corrected her then quickly blew it off the moment a looming darkness began to rise as the truck moved from beneath the trees canopy. She leaned forward with her wide eyes amazed by the height of the manor; at least four stories tall. "Oh my God." She said in awe.

Jerry grimaced; the most vial word to use around him, God. He shook it off continuing to roll the truck over the bumpy overgrowth driving around what looked to be a large fountain with its artful statues entangled and completely covered by vines. He turned the truck off. "Well, we're here!" he sang and quickly got out of the truck digging out the old keys to the manor. He moved forward and then a beam of light came from behind him. He turned his head and thanked the guy for remembering the flashlight. He continued forward and stepped up the cracked stone steps that stretched a good forty percent of the front of the manor. Once graceful pillars continued to hold up the structured front of the manor; cracked and swarmed by twisting vines. He moved to the towering entrance; plywood had been placed over the original doors. He gripped an edge and effortlessly pried the plywood back exposing a beautiful heavy wood door embellished with a traditional lion's head door knocker and brass handles instead of knobs. It was a shame, to him, that such a grand example of grace and beauty was left to rot. Now he felt prideful that he could assist in bringing that piece of craftsmanship into a second life.

He placed the old skeleton key into the keyhole just beneath the brass handle and with a strong twist the lock clicked. His hand pressed flat against the door while the other turned the handle and slowly he eased the door inward. He took a step over the threshold; the rightful owner having already given him permission but then again, the manor was vacant and abandoned so either way worked. "They said it's haunted." His eyes rolled upon hearing Trudy practically whisper her statement while standing behind him. Now was good a time as ever to commence feeding.

Trudy stood peering passed Jerry somewhat uneasy by the locals' tales surrounding the old estate. Her eyes slowly shifted towards their kind host; those eyes grew wide.

Chris stood behind his girlfriend slightly swaying; the English ale having taken him for a little drunken ride. Suddenly his face was splattered by something which caused him to stagger backwards while trying to blink through the dark substance. His heels tilted and he quickly dropped backwards rolling down the several stone steps. He landed hard face down against the overgrowth and gravel. His hand wiped the side of his face; he squinted trying to see what it was. "What the hell is that?" he asked aloud then looked to the left seeing where the flashlight landed. He reached out his arm and grabbed the flashlight then brought the beam to his hand. His eyes frowned for a moment then grew wider upon recognizing that smeared across his hand and splattered across his face was blood. "Trudy," he mumbled switching the flashlight into his right hand then lifted the beam up the steps. His mouth gaped and body started to tremble with the horror the flashlight revealed.

Jerry kept his fangs deep into the side of Trudy's neck; her body twitched and jerked as her blood flowed delightfully into his mouth. His eyes opened; blackened and glossy; and looked into that beam of light. He pulled Trudy to the side letting her body hit the stone with a thud; her blood smudged and glistening over his lips and down his chin. He snarled with a blood stained fanged grin looking through the beam of light down at the horrified Chris. "Guess you guys will be staying…" he moved forward then stomped slowly down the steps, "…well, permanently." He chuckled then watched the flashlight beam speedily dart followed by the young man scrambling to his feet. His boots thudded down against the gravel. His eyes followed Chris who darted away heading into the unknown. "You wanna play chase?" he questioned with an intrigued lift of his dark brows, "Fine by me, guy!"

Chris ran as fast as his slight drunkenness would allow. The flashlight was tightly gripped in his hand and aimed in front of him through the nearly waist high overgrowth. He had no idea where the hell he was going but one thing was for certain; he wanted to get the hell away from whatever he just saw. His eyes shifted left then to the right; saw nothing to his right but dark overgrowth then to his left was the window lined exterior wall of the manor. He saw the end of the lengthy wall and headed straight for it. He rushed around the dark corner then slammed against it trying to catch his breath. "Hey guy!" he heard Jerry calling through the darkness. His eyes blinked; tears glistened in his eyes from terror and the replay of the image of Trudy twitching uncontrollable with that guy latched to her neck.

He scrambled and moved along the side wall of the manor; he glanced back making sure he wasn't being chased. The width of the manor seemed just as long as its length. He ran though his breathing became as erratic as his heart beat. An end to the wall was reached and he discovered a severely overgrown garden that stretched as far as the eye could see through that English darkness. Where to run; his mind raced as his eyes searched while scanning the flashlight quickly about the surroundings. There; his eyes spotted an opening in the distance.

Quickly Chris fumbled through the overgrowth which seemed thicker and higher than the front of the manor. He gasped and whined with fearful tears glistening down his pale cheeks. He ran into that black opening praying for salvation. Upon rushing through the opening he smacked face first into a stone laid wall and dropped backward. Firstly he was stunned as his wide eyes stared up at the overcast night sky then watched the clouds drift from covering a half moon. Everything around him seemed to brighten as the moon was uncovered. He heard the sound of movement coming speedily through the overgrowth he just ran through. He scrambled to his feet then spun around seeing Jerry swiftly making his way towards him. He looked to the right then the left; both directions were identical. In a panic he darted to his right heading into more of the unknown.

Jerry stepped through the opening catching a glimpse of the flashlight to his left. His lips grinned; it was sort of refreshing playing a little cat and mouse. He didn't turn to follow but lifted his eyes scanning the height of the stone wall covered in vines. His lips held their grin then with a slight bend of his knees he leapt upward and effortlessly brought his boots down atop the wall then crouched. His black eyes scanned immediately recognizing what looked like a labyrinth and within that labyrinth he spotted the distinct flashes of light indicating Chris racing through the confusion. He rose to a stand then effortlessly cheated the labyrinth by moving atop the stone walls and steadily made his way towards that ripe rat scurrying through a maze blindly.

He moved along the lengths of the wall leaping over to another getting closer and closer to that juicy rat; no cheese for this rat to find just his fangs. He was already in love with the estate; perhaps he would use that labyrinth to play with future meals; brought him back to the days of the hunt. "I see you!" he shouted out and watched the flashlight freeze, "Go ahead and keep running, little rat, because I'm gonna get you!" He wickedly laughed and again leapt over to the top of another wall then proceeded following that flashlight glow. He paused for a moment upon seeing the moonlight reflecting off what looked like a glass dome at the very end of the labyrinth. Interesting; he thought then continued to track down the guy.

Chris was horribly lost and terrified after hearing that guys words and the following laughter. He felt as if it were one of the horror films where the last man standing was running for dear life from a psychopathic monster. It finally dawned; the damned flashlight was giving his location away. He turned the flashlight off then moved slower keeping his footsteps quiet. His breathing was still heavy and heart continuously pumping at a rapid rate. Earlier he was more worried about damned ghosts or perhaps a werewolf; American Werewolf in London type of scenario but what he got what he assumed was a vampire. Damn, he wasn't dealing with a British Christopher Lee type of vampire but something more vicious. His eyes peered forward in the darkness as he moved through the many corridors; already hit a few dead ends. He reached the center of a corridor and discovered a steel gate with the same 'D' melded into the top just as the manor's main gate. He peered through the steel bars of the gate; his hands gripped the bars but the gate was locked. His eyes scanned back up the gate. Perhaps if he climbed up and over that whatever it was won't be able to get to him. He brought his booted foot up onto one crossbar while his hand pulled him up. One boot after the other he scaled the shaky gate then reached the top. He heaved his leg over the top of the gate and for a moment straddled it. He began to drag his other leg over then suddenly he was violently leapt on sending him falling down to the ground below.

With a loud thud Chris struck the ground and he loudly groaned feeling the pain of such a drop. Then his throat was grabbed; his eyes snapped wide open and looked up at the sight of fangs. His body went into a frenzy of trembles as his eyes reluctantly shifted and looked into two blackened pools. "Gotchya!" he listened to that wicked voice mockingly laugh. His eyes grew wider feeling himself being jerked up off the ground with his feet dangling above the thick layer of decades of fallen leaves. His wide eyes stared down in horror at the widening mouth and watched in terror as that mouth filled with rows of needle sharpened teeth. He loudly gasped followed by a high pitched scream as he was tossed backward striking against two large carved stone doors; the chains rattled. He dropped painfully onto his face.

Jerry was filled with the rush of the hunt; so much enjoyment given causing the young man so much terror which sent that powerful scent filling his senses. His neck cracked side to side with his mouth stretched and baring that hideous array of fangs. He stepped forward listening to Chris moaning while still face down into the thick rotted layer of fallen foliage. He grumbled loudly while his lengthy clawed fingers anxiously twitched. His black eyes shifted from Chris and looked behind the face down young man at the double stone doors. His head jerkily cocked to the side seeing what looked like a giant cross bracing the doors along with loops of old rusted chain and ancient looking padlocks. He returned his attention to the young man then reached down snatching Chris by the shirt and jerked the guy up off the ground. Without any more hesitation or need to play around; his hideous mouth opened unnaturally wide then tore those grotesque fangs into the front of the guy's exposed throat. Like a vicious animal he growled and snarled over the guy's gurgling sounds while blood bubbled and spewed from the guy's gaped mouth. Chris's body twitched and jerked but gradually it became limp as every last drop of blood was consumed.

With a satisfied gasp Jerry pulled back then he hummed in delight with his eyes slightly fluttering. After a twist of his jaw his mouth regained his human appearance but dripping and covered in the young man's rich blood. His hand released the guy's shirt and with a leafy crunch his body hit the ground. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth smearing the blood then greedily he dragged his tongue across his hand lapping up the blood. "Good old American blood," he snickered enjoying the refreshing change from old English blood.

His eyes shifted to that oddity he noticed before devouring the guy. He shifted his stance and faced those towering stone door intricately carved with elaborate scrolled Ds on each door. But what was with the giant cross; he asked in thought. He stepped closer; crosses didn't bother him and this one wasn't being held in the hand of some giant Christian with a giant load of faith. He stepped about the front wall; his senses picked up the scent of old death and it came to him that he stood before a very, very old family mausoleum. There was intrigue about the mighty structure at the end of the labyrinth. He stepped before those doors; it was pretty sturdy and already filled with dead bodies which gave him the idea that place of death would make a wonderful incubator. He smiled his bloody lips and gave nod of agreement. No time like the present.

He reached and grabbed hold of that ancient cross; there was a slight burn at first as he lifted the heavy weight religious relic. Unfazed, his hands burst into flames while lifting the cross from bracing the doors. He tossed it aside as if the solid thing weighed nothing then with a two quick blows the flames burning his hands dissipated. With a good shake of his hands they returned to their normal appearance without any burned evidence. His hand snatched the ancient chains then jerked practically shattering the old steel into crumbling rust. Both hands pressed flat against the stone doors and with his unnatural strength he pushed forward and those doors slowly crept open; stone grinding against stone. The stench of old death rushed forward after centuries of being tightly closed behind those doors. He grimaced with his nostrils filled with that rotten stench.

Once the doors were open enough he turned, bent down and grabbed hold of Chris's wrist then stepped backwards dragging the drained body through the mausoleum entrance. Ignoring the stench he faced forward keeping hold of the limp wrist and peered into the looming darkness throughout the entire gloomy place. He turned releasing the wrist then flipped the body over and removed the backpack. He dug into the backpack searching for something or anything; sure he could see through pretty much most darkness but the interior of that mausoleum was pure darkness with no light. An ominous glow ended his search; it illuminated behind him. His head turned and peered through the corner of his eyes and watched something miraculous; the torches throughout the mausoleum began to spark to life. His eyes frowned and brows furrowed. Okay, maybe that halfwit Trudy was right, perhaps the grand old Brightley estate was haunted. His eyes scanned from side to side seeing the most recent mausoleum residents who were placed within the walls one above the other and sealed forever inside their death beds.

He again grabbed the limp wrist and proceeded forward following that glow; he wasn't scared of anything and was mostly curious. Down a slant of stairs he strolled; the body thumping as it was dragged down the stairs. If he were a mere mortal he'd be crying by then with all the creepiness along with that stench of death. Reaching the bottom of the slanted stairs his boots pressed down atop a tiny little corpse; the bones crumbled into mere dust. His eyes scanned down the lit stretch of corridor before him seeing scattered tiny corpses of rodents. His eyes frowned again as he continued forward dragging the body behind him like a small child dragging its favorite limp teddy bear. Little critter corpse after another he crushed beneath his boots; something sure took out the rat population in that dank and stinky pit of the dead.

He reached the end of the corridor where a rusted steel gate hung partially open and slightly swaying as if something had moved by it; there was no air inside. "Hmm," he hummed curiously then pulled the gate wide open and proceeded dragging dead guy behind him. His eyes blinked upon watching those spaced torches light one after another illuminating a circular and domed structure. His eyes lifted as his head tilted back and looked to the domed ceiling where he knew earlier he spotted what looked like glass but there was no glass just fragile looking old masonry mud with larger than life crosses bolted to what would be the window framing.

What the hell was with the crosses; he again asked in thought; definitely Catholic. His eyes scanned the rounded and curved walls and spotted a perfect empty spot to stash the dead guy. He moved across the thickly dusted flooring, also littered with vermin corpses, and approached the arched hole in the wall. He glanced inside the hole; obviously another place meant for a body and its coffin. He gathered up the body then crammed it into the dusty cobweb filled hole. "Stay put, for now." He chuckled dusting his hands off by brushing them together while turning around looking through the massive center of that mausoleum. There was great design and effort put into the creation of that special room amongst the rotted corpses. The air was thick with the scent of rot, dust, and centuries upon centuries being sealed tightly. Yet, there was something else he felt inside that massive domed room. The torches igniting mysteriously and seemingly on their own illuminating the scattered dried up corpses strewn every inch of the flooring; something beyond a mere haunting ghost was there. Suddenly, before his eyes, the darkness within the center of the circular illumination brightened; candles laid out in a circular pattern sparked one by one to life. Oh, something definitely weird was happening before his eyes.

He moved towards those lit candles; many of them already near burning out. There was a smell of burning dust which indicated those candles along with the torches hadn't been lit a long while. What those candles illuminated around was a centuries old traditional fourteenth century sarcophagus where inside a coffin would have been placed with a body inside that. This was fascinating to him; felt as if he were in some sort of morbid version of the game Clue where clues were being handed out to him. He stepped closer to the raised tomb set atop a platform surrounded by a few steps which were clustered with those many candles. It was almost like a shrine of sorts; definitely peaking his curiosity. He also developed this sense he was thrust into some sort of old style gothic Hammer film which made him chuckle thinking of all those lame stylized versions of vampires; farfetched for sure. He carefully stepped up those few steps quickly noticing more of those crosses which were more elaborate with the carved images of Jesus being crucified. When stepping up onto the platform he then saw the lid of that sarcophagus also placed with a massive cross almost the exact size of the lid. Damn Catholics and their overly done use of crosses; he shook his head.

Well, things went and became weirder for him; those once lit torches suddenly went out leaving him standing there before the sarcophagus with just that candlelight. What the hell had he gotten himself into this time? His eyes looked closely and noticed beneath the top portion of the laid cross was a dusted plate. His shoulders shrugged then he quickly shoved that heavy metal cross off the lid; the sound of its fall echoed loudly throughout the mausoleum. He wiped his hand across the dusty plate which was discovered to be tarnished gold. His eyes scanned the embossed words. "Lady Mary," he read aloud, "Gabriella Dryden-Brightley; May God have mercy on her damned soul." Now that was just mean; he thought; damned Catholics and their bible banging ways, especially in this woman's time. He remembered the century when people were burned left and right for heresy against the Roman Catholic Church and the Pope. It was common practice back in those times for many people, rich or poor, to be ridiculed before the so called righteous and condemned to death because of religious beliefs. Mortals were nothing but hypocritical idiots; he shook his head. "And what did you do to damn yourself?" he asked; not expecting any type of answer, "Was it you, Mary, who politely lit this place up for me, hmm?" he asked curiously, "Let's see, shall we?"

He pressed the heel of his hands against the sides of the sarcophagus's lid. He gritted his teeth together and put all his strength against the lid hearing it begin to scrape forward against the base of the sarcophagus. He had no problem desecrating a sarcophagus; they were dead and he wasn't, exactly, dead. The moment the lid slid forward creating an opening a heavy familiar stench struck him; this was no ordinary religiously condemned Lady. He gave one good shove and that lid went crashing over the side joining the cross. He quickly looked inside; the depths were dark. Quickly he snatched one of those offered candles then brought it above the opening; the light reflected against hundreds of broken shards of glass scattered throughout the inside of the tomb. He lowered the candle and discovered the intricate framing of what once was a glass coffin lid; Snow White popped into his head which prompted a smirk. But he saw no body stretched over the faded and worn satin lining the inside of the glass coffin. "Huh," he sighed; no centuries old corpse of a former Lady of the manor. He set the candle down atop the tomb's edge. Then from seemingly nowhere came a voice.

"Cleanse my heart and my lips, O almighty Love..." The voice was as faint as a distant whisper but Jerry's keen hearing caught every spoken word; once the word of Catholic prayer but distorted in a different honor; "Who didst cleanse with the burning coal the lips of my Love Ian…" His head slowly turned hearing that voice continue to whisper as it seemed to grow closer, "…and vouchsafe in Thy loving-kindness so to purify me…" his eyes slowly shifted in direction of the closing whisper, "…that I may be enabled worthily to announce Thy unholy gospel." The voice came from the darkness looming before the glow of the candles set around the bottom step, "Through Ian my Love. Amen…" Well, he was officially beyond weird-ed out. Nothing was more annoying than prayer but this thing just totally distorted the real religious meaning, "Vouchsafe, O Love, to bless me…" that voice continued as his eyes looked down at a glimpse of the hem of golden skirting, "My Love be in my heart and on my lips…" his eyes slowly shifted upward catching bits of shimmer reflecting the candlelight, "…that I may worthily and becomingly announce Your gospel. Amen."

The candles at the bottom step quickly blew out one by one allowing that shimmery reflectivity to move upward. The candles on the second step followed suit along with the motion of reflective gold. The third step candles went out one by one but stopped and illuminated only the back of the sarcophagus which he was now slightly pressed back against. He wasn't sure what to expect and he got an answer in the form of two hands reaching from the darkness and into the candlelight. His eyes took quick study of those hands; bony fingers with pasty grayish skin and abnormally long yellowed nails. Those yellowed nails grazed the sides of his face then quickly a shrouded face move before his; the material somewhat sheer and shimmered as if coated in golden dust. There was no real making out the face beyond that shroud and for a reason he assumed because what quite possibly was behind that glitter of gold was the image of a corpse. "You found me." He heard that voice speak through the veil of the shroud, "My Love, My Ian has at last found me and come to free me." Who the hell did this thing think he was? Who the hell was Ian and how did he end up in those distorted Catholic prayers? Oh, this was more than he bargained for. First tales of ghosts and now he was face to face with something possibly like him and probably gone completely nuts having been sealed in that joint for so damned long.

"Mary, right?" he spoke up, "I'm sorry to inform you that you have the wrong man." He watched her quickly pull her decrepit looking hands from his face; at least he didn't go into a detailed explanation why he wasn't who she thought he was. He watched that golden shroud shift as the head beneath did.

"But..." that feminine voice sounded with confusion and again those stiffly twitching fingers reached for Jerry's face, "...what of what I see? The face is but the same as I remember...How is that so? How is it the face is the same but not the name or man?" Again those hands pulled back slipping swiftly beneath the golden shroud, "Aghast, again mine mind toils with me." The shrouded figure stepped back down the first step and slowly turned continuing down those steps. "Shalt mine punishment, suffering, and torture continue in this hell?" Slowly the figure lowered to the filthy and vermin corpse cluttered floor; the aged, worn, and dirtied skirting bundled a golden circle as the figure sat down in defeat. The candles again burst to life illuminating the figure seated just before the final step. A shrouded arm lifted and crossed over the chest beneath; the hand tightly fisted gripping the shimmering shroud. "Lamb of God, who takest away the sins of the world; have mercy on me." that voice again spoke but with more conviction of the religious meaning, "Lamb of God, Who takest away the sins of the world: have mercy on me." the voice repeated as the head was visually bowed down beneath the drape of glittery gold, "Lamb of God, Who takest away the sins of the world: have mercy on me." The voice went silent.

Well, it was the first time in his existence he came across a Catholic vampire who was well versed in prayer. He stepped down with his eyes focused on the still and silent figure. There was curiosity about this creature's origins; obviously an Old Catholic background was involved. He stopped at the third step and slowly crouched down. "I'm sorry I'm not who you thought I was, Mary." it was strange speaking the creature's name just having read it on the sarcophagus golden plate, "But you are free to go. The doors to this place are wide open and you can just march right out into the night." He did his good deed for the century; freed a fellow vampire from further centuries of unnecessary confinement. "Right out those doors," he spoke again, "I believe is what once was your home; Brightley Estate."

"Not my home," the voice sadly spoke, "It was no longer mine the moment I spoke marital vows."

"Well," he rose up then stepped off the last step and moved around the bundled layers of gold silk, "You don't have to live there. You can go anywhere you want. Like me." He watched that shroud again shift with the motion of the head beneath lifting from its bow and obviously behind the shroud two eyes looked up at him. He again crouched down looking to where he believed the face was hidden. "When was the last time you fed?" he curiously asked, "Besides the local rodents?"

"Fed?" the voice questioned.

"Well," he was stunned; has this creature been confined in that death house from the very beginning? "Have you ever had mortal human blood?"

"Yes," the voice answered, "Once,"

"Once?" he asked; that was just plain wrong!

"My Love," the voice stated; a hand urged to reach and touch that familiar face, "My Ian but I hadn't meant to do so. Whatever demon that laid inside me forced me to take His blood. But that deed I had done made Him like me. I know this. And so, that twas why you were mistaken for Him because I thought perhaps my prayers had finally been granted." the head beneath again bowed in sadness, "But, alas, they were not. Your face brought here to further my punishment for my sins."

Oh, this one was sure a tragic creature; so damned mournful unlike him. If he had been locked up for as long as she has he would've bolted and took down the entire village. "You're wrong," he stated sort of wishing she'd just go ahead and remove that shroud, "I'm not here as some kind of sinner's punishment; I'm here because I was hired to clean up this place while at the same time preparing for the ultimate rise of our kind."

"You are a demon then." the voice vocalized the figure's assumption.

He laughed, "Not exactly. But I do love to cause some hell."

"What is our kind?" the voice asked.

"We're vampires," he blatantly replied, "Immortals who feed on mortals and on occasion turn them into our doers."

"So, I have been alive beyond it was meant?" the voice again asked.

"I'm guessing a good six centuries or more. Damn," he smirked with realization, "You're older than I am by at least two centuries."

"So long," the voice sighed, "Six centuries I have lived this hell."

"Yep, looks like it." he nodded then rose up, "Well, I've a body to take care of so, if you care to leave here, you're free to do so; the front doors unlocked, Mary." He took a step back, "Always a pleasure meeting another." He turned and moved in the direction he came. Well, another story to stack on top of millions of others; he moved out of the mausoleum prepared to dispose of what's her name; Trudy; he guessed.


End file.
